


the night breeze carries something sweet

by LamiaCalls



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 03: The Unsleeping City, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Rejection, Requited Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamiaCalls/pseuds/LamiaCalls
Summary: Kingston’s a valium mellow next to Pete’s amphetamine energy. Calm. Steady. Not an ounce of flightiness in him.
Relationships: Kingston Brown/Pete the Plug
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31





	the night breeze carries something sweet

**Author's Note:**

> I started this while watching TUC ages ago, after Ally suggested that Kingston & Pete went home and listened to jazz. And then I forgot about it. I finished it today, but I haven't watched TUC in a while so hopefully I haven't messed up any canon details.

The lights are low and the music bubbles softly out of the old record player. Pete doesn’t recognise the artist, but she’s good, whoever she is. He takes the last few slugs of wine. Pete’s not much of a wine aficionado, doesn’t know what to even taste for, tastebuds slammed by too many dabs, but he assumes it’s good. Everything Kingston chooses is the best.

Which is why he can’t work out why Kingston seems to be fine with just sitting and talking to him, laughing at all of Pete’s stupid jokes, and seemingly genuinely happy to be there. Pete suggested they invite Misty over, since at least she can keep up with Kingston’s stories and share in them. Pete liked that Kingston shook his head, said she’d probably be in bed already.

It means Pete gets Kingston to himself. Gets to listen to Kingston talk, of the Unsleeping City from before Pete was awakened to it, to stories of what he and Misty used to get up to, to the time he saved Wally from some dubiously licensed demolition. And Kingston doesn’t seem to mind listening to Pete too, to his shitty stories, all embarrassing and drug-addled. Kingston even leans in, asks questions, gives him that smile that makes Pete stumble over his words.

He’s so different from anyone Pete has ever known. So different, especially to Priya and her friends, to 53\/3N, to his parents, to Marta and Yagdash, to, hell, everyone in their little clique now.

He’s a valium mellow next to Pete’s amphetamine energy. Calm. Steady. Not an ounce of flightiness in him.

Their fingers brush when they go to put down their glasses at the exact same time, and Pete’s breath hitches just a little. There would be a time when he would have been so numb to that, so numb to anything but the most intense of feelings and actions. But without drugs, it seems like everything’s heightened, everything matters so much more. Like food on an empty stomach, everything tastes so sweet now.

And when Pete’s hand hesitates there, so does Kingston’s, much to his surprise. They both pull away eventually, and talk for a little while longer.

“I should go to bed,” Kingston says. He collects up the wine glasses, too fast for Pete to grab his. “Got work in the morning.”

“What time?” Pete asks.

“7.30,” Kingston says. “Gotta be up by 6.”

Pete hasn’t seen seven from that side of sleep in a long, long time. But he says, “I’ll get up with you.”

“Is that right?” Kingston asks, and Pete can hear the amusement in his words.

“Ricky keeps saying we need to work out earlier, so,” Pete says, and shrugs.

“I’ll get some coffee going for the both of us, then,” Kingston says.

He leads them into the kitchen, and Pete makes a mental note to get up at 5.30, so he can throw breakfast together for them, surprise Kingston with it. He knows Victoria’ll be pleased, he’s been privy to enough of her lectures to Kingston about eating breakfast.

Pete doesn’t get to the sink before he does. But then Kingston’s turning, looking for the plates from dinner, and Pete knows he’s standing too close but he doesn’t move. And Kingston is right there, and he doesn’t move either, and suddenly all he can hear is his own heart beating and Kingston’s breath.

So he doesn’t think too hard about it when he leans up and in, and kisses Kingston. There’s no softness to Pete, no trepidation, not when he’s thinking about this all evening and the press of Kingston’s chest against his warms him through.

Kingston leans in too, for just a second. Just a second.

Then he’s pushing Pete away, and looking at him, frowning. He looks — embarrassed? But that’s not right. Kingston’s a man who is always sure of himself.

“What’re you doing, Pete?” he says.

“Kissing you?” Pete says, suddenly unsure. He rocks back on his heels. “I thought—“

“We can’t be doing this,” Kingston says, but Pete notices that he isn’t moving away.

Pete’s insides twinge. “Why not?”

Kingston’s eyebrow arches. “Why not? I can give you a million reasons why not.”

“Are any of them that you don’t want to kiss me?”

Pete waits, breathe held, cheeks warm, but Kingston doesn’t say anything, lips pressed tight into a line.

“It’s not about whether I want to or not,” Kingston finally says, and Pete knows that means he does want to. “You’re what? 35 years younger than me, at least—”

“So?”

“—And besides that, you’re a guest in my house. Staying here because there’s nowhere else to go. It’d be an abuse of my power to get involved with you. You’ve gotta see that, Pete. It’s coercive, is what it is.”

Pete resists the urge to roll his eyes at Kingston. Always thinking ahead, thinking about the implications and consequences. Never about the moment.

“It’s not coercive. I kissed you, didn’t I?” Pete fiddles with a loose thread on his jacket. This would normally be when he pulled out a mushroom or a tab of acid but that’s not the way anymore. He takes a deep breath. “I just… I wanted to kiss you, so I did. It doesn’t have to mean more than that.”

“Probably shouldn’t.”

Pete nods. He would be more disappointed, if it weren’t for the fact that Kingston still hadn’t moved. They still stand way too close for any real comfort or pretence of platonic feelings. Pete aches to kiss him, to feel the warmth of his mouth again. To hear the hitch in Kingston’s breath. To give him more than just a kiss.

He wonders how long it had been since Kingston has been with anyone. His stories sometimes make mention of different partners, brief flings — it’s how Pete knew that Kingston swings in all directions — but they are always from before Liz.

Kingston deserves someone, anyone in his life, who will take care of him. Not in the way Kingston takes care of other people — not with food or shelter, or even sage advice. But he deserves someone who takes care of the basal needs. And Pete — it’s a web of strange emotions in his gut, where he doesn’t know whether he really wants to fuck Kingston because Kingston is just that goddamn hot (which, he most definitely _is_ hot, that’s impossible to deny, in that silver fox kind of way) or if it’s because Pete wants to give back to Kingston, to show him how much all this has meant to him. To remind him what it’s like to not be alone, even for the briefest of moments.

Kingston breaks the silence, clearing his throat.

“I need to clear up.”

“Right,” Pete says. He steps back, as much as he doesn’t want to. The reality of his transgression is starting to set in, and there’s no drug haze to numb it. “You can — I can do it, if you want to go straight to bed.”

“Come on now,” Kingston says. “I can do that.”

“Right,” Pete says again. His cheeks are too warm. He wants to do so much for Kingston, but the last thing he wants is to have made him uncomfortable.

But Kingston places a hand on Pete’s shoulder, so gentle it almost hurts, and looks at him with that concern and compassion that Pete isn’t used to, doesn’t know that he’ll ever get used to.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be getting embarrassed about,” he says. And his voice is calm again, firm. “There’s just some boundaries, you know, Pete. Things people shouldn’t do regardless of whether they want to or not.”

“You ever loosen up?” Pete says, smirking. “Do the things you actually want to do?”

Kingston laughs.

“No, that’s your job, Vox Phantasma.”

There’s something behind those words, behind the smile on Kingston’s face, but Pete doesn’t know how to grasp it, to work out what it is.

“Come on, you’re a lot less used to early mornings than I am,” Kingston says, and turns back to the sink. The spell is broken, the intensity cut through. Pete can breathe again and Kingston is acting like nothing happened. “You better get your ass to bed.”

“Right,” Pete says, and this time he means it. Bed. That’s something he can do. It’s been a long, confusing day and he’s dreading the morning already. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He wants to stay and help Kingston wash up; it’s the least he can do what with Kingston’s generosity, here and everywhere else too. But he doesn’t want to make things awkward, doesn’t want to press Kingston’s grace.

When he curls up into bed, eyelids heavy, though, all he can think of is the way Kingston’s breath caught, and the way one of Kingston’s hand snaked onto his hip, held him closer before he pushed him away.

And when he hears Kingston shut his own bedroom door, Pete is disappointed. Part of him still grimly hoped Kingston would change his mind, come in here. But then, Pete knows that that isn’t who Kingston is, and Kingston is nothing if not consistent.

It’s what Pete likes about him.


End file.
